As The Saying Goes
by Vergess
Summary: Sherlock BBC Kinkmeme Fill. Mummy Holmes and Mummy Watson were best childhood friends. They'd do anything together, share all their secrets and sweets. Then, one of them moved away and they lost touch. Now they're meeting, and recognize each other.


"Oh! Hi!"

"Uh…"

"Sorry 'bout'cher little cake…"

"'S okay, I guess."

"You c'n have one'a my toffee bits. My mumma's got 'em in her bag."

"No. 'S fine."

Two little girls faced eachother in a park one afternoon in early spring. The first day in a long while that the sun had won its great and constant battle against the cloud cover. The dark haired one, much smaller though she wasn't too much younger, looked on the verge of crying. She hadn't meant to smash headlong into the other girl, and knock her sweet onto the ground like that, and now she was probably going to be in trouble, and her attempt at making everything right again- a sweetie for a sweetie- had fallen miserably short.

"Uh…" The larger girl said, quite eloquently given the circumstances. "If I take one, will you stop snivellin'?"

"Uh-huh."

"'Kay. My name's Jaqueline."

"'s a long name."

"Well… whass yer name, then?"

The younger girl coughed, face flushing. "A.. Ahl… Alheedr…" The word seemed to refuse to come out comfortably, and the tears threatened to return. Jaqueline, however, had a suspicion of what to do.

"'Kay, Leelee. Le'ss go see your mum 'bout that toffee."

Alhydrea- for that was the younger girl's name- gave a thrilled cheer and bounded clumsily across the grass, towards her mother's skirts, and more importantly, the sugary treats in her mother's handbag. Jaqueline followed at a more reasonable pace.

And with that, a friendship was born.

* * *

As the saying goes: one never forgets their first. Whether it is first car, first love, first day of school, no one ever really forgets the major milestones in their lives. And yet, it is not particularly hard to forget one's first friend.

Unlike most of those overly passionate memories, recollections of bygone friendships tend to fade, smoldering into dust and ash.

Alhydrea had promised Jaqueline many times that no such fate would befall them. They would always be best friends. Forever.

At the time, little Leelee had meant it completely, with the pure reverence and loyalty that only young children seem to possess, and Jackie, even if she was almost a year older, felt the same way.

The two girls did everything together. Parks, clothes, once-weekly vinyl music marathons and more sleepovers than strictly reasonable.

They had always been together. They were a unit. When Jackie had turned five, Leelee had pitched such an indomitable fit that her parents had eventually enrolled her in the nursery at the same establishment, disregarding that fact that neither she nor they were Catholic.

In the end, her parents came to be grateful for the decision. Girls, especially in a single sex school, could be wildly cruel to each other, but they were far less dangerous than young men. And, Jackie always acted as Leelee's guardian. Having grown up in a household of four brothers, she was no pushover.

Unlike the decidedly dreamier and more whimsical girl she had befriended.

And if anyone ever considered their friendship a bit unusually possessive, they said nothing.

Except, one day, a particularly unpleasant bastard by the name of Siger tried his hand at seducing poor, innocent and unsuspecting Alhydrea. It was fortunate that he attended some prestigious public school, because if he'd ever set foot near her on campus, he would have discovered very quickly that Jaqueline could be just as rambunctious- or as violent- in protecting her friends as any rugby playing jock. As it was, she'd only broken his nose once, when she'd caught him trying to sneak his way into Leelee's window during a sleepover.

Wretched young man, really.

But Alhydrea had been so deeply enamored with him that she could see no wrong. It had hurt Jackie to see her beloved friend making such soulful eyes at someone else. Leelee had always belonged only to her.

When Jackie had disappeared to Uni, she met a wonderful, charming young working man named Cole, and dropped out to wed him. She'd sent an invitation to Alhydrea on the same day she received one herself.

Their falling out would have been spectacular, but for the distance between them. If Leelee wanted to run off and marry some rich, sleazy bastard within a month of finishing school… That was her business. Besides, it'd be more than a touch hypocritical, really.

They spoke, off and on, as friends do. Sent Christmas cards, for a while. Jackie even received a beautiful, calligraphic birth announcement a handful of years later, informing her that young Sherrinford Asleigh had entered the world.

Jackie never met that little boy. Never expected to. She had grown up, childhood declarations of permanence cast aside in favor of raising her own daughter, and two years later, her son as well. Keeping everyone in her home safe and well adjusted left her barely enough time to have a social life in the present, let alone to try relighting an old friendship in the past.

Harriet had always been the greater handful, not like her responsible young son, John, who had known from nearly the moment of her birth the difference between right and wrong. He had grown into an upstanding gentleman.

He had been a little disappointing, actually, it one very particular way. When Harriet had declared herself a lesbian, Jackie had hardly been surprised. She knew what it was like, to be in love with a girl during your school years, when you were both confidants and soul mates. She had expected Harry would grow out of it, eventually. But she never did, and that was fine. At least her daughter was at peace with herself, and at any rate, Harry had worse vices to contend with the homosexuality.

And Johnny could always give her a grandson or four.

Only now, that too seemed to be off the table.

She was happy, elated really. Ever since that darling Clara had finally seen sense and scampered off to let Harry piece herself back together, there had been an astounding amount of loneliness in her children's lives. A wedding was an excellent thing, and that Sherlock lad was pleasant enough.

Well, not pleasant. But Johnny liked him- loved him- and wasn't that the point?

At this rate, though, she wouldn't even have any adopted grandbabies. Johnny's new, frantic and questionably legal- though the police seemed happy enough to overlook it- lifestyle was hardly conducive to child rearing.

And if she occasionally stared wistfully into the distance and had herself a little sigh, well, there was no harm in it. She was finally marrying off her son, after all. Every mother was entitled to a bit of melancholy at that. It was a wretched pity that Cole hadn't lived long enough to see this day. But he'd been ill since long before Harry and Clara's own sham of a wedding. That pain was hardly fresh enough to warrant this depression.

Still, it meant that, with John being married to another man, the Watson line was going to come to an end with them. How unfortunate…

The Holmes side of the aisle was unnervingly crowded, by comparison. It seemed there would be no lack of grandchildren for Sherlock's mother. That woman must have birthed at least eight or nine herself, for there to be so many crowded in. The first seat of the front row, though, was empty. It seemed that Mrs Holmes, lacking her husband as well, had decided that she ought to walk her son down the aisle and give him away.

From what Jackie knew of Sherlock, she imagined there must have been an absolutely explosive battle for that, but no son ever really stood a chance of denying his mother anything, especially when it came to weddings.

She had not yet seen the elusive Holmes matriarch, but had heard many deeply amusing tales from her various offspring. A fanciful romantic, apparently, though raising so many children had left her more than able to hand down stern declarations and punishments from on high. According to most- though there had been a distinct detour from form in the youngest daughter Violet's words- it was her high expectations and constant optimism that had driven them to become such a frighteningly powerful lot.

At this single ceremony, there were probably heads of enough organizations to orchestrate a global peace treaty, or possibly a complete- and secret- round trip mission to mars.

That brought a smile to her face: her little Johnny had somehow managed to find his place in the world here, among such fantastic people. Fantastic was precisely the word. They seemed more than a bit unreal.

As the music began to rise and the murmur of many voices drifted into silence, Jackie gave her son a blinding smile, before turning along with the rest of the congregation to watch the- Well, not the bride, but she couldn't resist thinking of him like that- and his mother begin their procession.

The flower girl came first, a bright eyed blonde child with the same stunning celtic blue eyes as the rest of the clan, made slightly hypnotic by their size.

Then, Violet Holmes and her own husband, arm in arm, each dressed in stylish dove grey and looking regal. Jackie had never heard of a wedding done in shades of black, white and grey, but the effect was clean and still overwhelming. Elegant. Just another aspect of the mysterious mummy Holmes.

Harriet drifted down the aisle, gripping her assigned partner's hand fiercely. It was deeply amusing to see her clinging to one of the many Holmes brothers with such ferocity- she believed this one was called Mycroft, though Jackie thought of him mostly as the smug one. Seeing her daughter desperately hand in hand with a man was just so completely, gloriously incongruous.

She didn't know either of the last pair. A brunette woman who was apparently some friend of Sherlock's, and possibly an international criminal, attached to a somewhat unsettled looking gentleman. He wasn't particularly old, probably just a year or two Johnny's senior, but the way his hair matched his ash colored suit made him look ageless. His stiff carriage suggested he might have been one of John's military friends, except he'd been selected by Sherlock, apparently.

The music reached a crescendo, drifting seamlessly from some unknown tune into Pachelbel's canon, Jackie found herself anticipating her first look at Mummy Holmes nearly as much as she awaited seeing the expression on Sherlock's face.

He looked wonderfully confused, as though he wasn't quite sure how he'd gotten to this point, and Jackie took pleasure in the fact that, here and now, he was having the same reaction any young man did before signing their soul over to another.

However, she suspected dully that her face looked a bit similar. The pieces slid into place gracefully.

For the last three years, Holmes had been the name associated with her son's partner. Before that, it had been just another surname. But it had also, a very long time ago, been the name of a boy whose face she'd smashed in for being a pervert and sneaking into a young lady's room unannounced.

* * *

Ally was always excited at weddings. Even the looming horizon of yet another birthday- she was due to be sixty five in a few weeks- couldn't quash her euphoria. Of all her children, Sherlock had always been the least sociable, and considering the only people he'd ever loved had been one miserable bit of filth who had broken him at University, and another slightly less dirty bit of filth who had tried to ruin him by dragging him into a life of crime, the way he had spoken of John Watson was truly relieving.

She had expected this day for a very long time, and when Sherlock had started keeping more secrets than usual from her, it hadn't taken much effort to put the signs together. Her son might have gotten his observational skills from his father, but she was his mother, and her intuition was nearly infallible.

She had sent him a very detailed schedule of events, six months prior, and had waited almost breathlessly for him to call and thank her. Which he did. Eventually. With John's voice scoffing in the background and prodding him to carry on.

His superb composure was threatening to crack now, as they stood just outside the door of the chapel. Alhydrea resisted the urge to laugh at his expense. He was so adorable, her son. Really. More than a bit spoiled, and off in the head, but sweet when he wanted to be. And, for the moment, quite clearly human. Which she occasionally doubted.

She nodded to Mycroft, and John's sister, and they passed through to arches and down the aisle. Sherlock made a hitched, choking noise beside her.

"My sweet honey bee. Trust me. You'll be just fine once you get through those doors." She whispered, voice lilting musically. "You'll see him standing there, and you'll remember all at once what exactly what variety of crazy infected you and made this look like a good idea."

Sherlock didn't say a word. She waved Irene and Lestrade through, noting the way the law enforcer looking vaguely like he was going to be sick. Possibly sympathy for her son. More likely, guilt at knowing that if he didn't let a well known and very much wanted thief slip away during the reception he would find himself on the wrong end of the considerable Holmes family arsenal.

She counted silently, marking each measure of music in her mind, until the moment came. She had expected Sherlock to be stiff and immobile when she grasped lightly at his elbow, but he seemed rather like his was melting. For a brief, horrified moment, she wondered if he would fall over. He caught himself, though, and Ally smiled.

"Come along then, bee. Buzz, buzz." She teased quietly, as she guided him through the doorway, reveling in the rush of success. Everything had gone flawlessly. Much smoother than the last three weddings she'd orchestrated. And now, once again, she had proven herself an able mother, successfully raising a young man capable of both contributing to society and leading a fulfilling personal life. She was so proud, and that euphoric pride beamed out of her, easily covering the nerves in Sherlock's jelly legged steps long enough for him to catch his footing and regain his senses.

She smiled, and pinched her son surreptitiously on his white suited arm to remind him to smile as well, the stubborn little git. It was his wedding, after all. He had to at least ilook/i happy.

They reached the head of the aisle with little incident, and Ally couldn't stop herself from winking at her soon to be son-in-law, mouthing good luck as the minister asked his age old question. Alhydrea replied, voice perfectly composed, the she was giving away her dear son, and twirled not-quite-dramatically to settle into her empty seat.

As the officiant droned in a way that was heart breakingly dull considering the momentous occasion at hand, her eyes wandered. She had always been hard pressed to pay attention to any one scene, and even if her baby was doing something that verged on impossible today, well… she had seen many weddings, and by number six, the novelty of giving your child to another wore off. She was so happy, but happiness and rapt interest were not mutually inclusive traits.

Mycroft was looking as pleased as ever, as though he'd been predicting this day nearly as long as Ally herself.

Violet was pulling utterly unnecessary- if subtle- faces in an attempt to make her husband giggle in an inappropriate way.

John's sister- Harry, was it?- looked a few steps shy of passing out. Ally wondered if it was nerves, or joy, or something rather less innocent. Could be anything, really.

Irene, that awful, brilliant girl, looked flawless. Her composure was as fake and clean as any china doll.

Sherlock's friend… Greg, perhaps. The policeman. He was staring so fiercely at Irene that something really ought to have melted by now.

But, overall, everything was smooth as the lush silk of her own gown.

She couldn't possibly manage to look at her own relatives, seated behind her as they were, without being caught. But, she could see probably half of John's family without turning her head too far. They all seemed generally pleasant. Every single one, with the same dingy near-blond hair, though their faces and builds varied quite a lot.

There couldn't have been more than two dozen of them. But, then, not everyone could have quite so many relatives as Alhydrea Holmes. In fact, most would probably have given up very long ago, trying to keep all the names and ages and faces sorted out.

The woman sitting nearest to her, just across the aisle, was no doubt John's mother. She looked vaguely familiar, probably seen in passing in some photograph. Ally was overcome with a disconcerting sense of déjà vu, and responded the only way she knew how: by focusing her bright blue eyes piercingly on her son and his husband.

They were such sweet boys.

* * *

"Mum. I'd like you to meet-"

It wasn't Jaqueline's usual style, to interrupt her son's sentences like this, but this was a very bizarre set of circumstances. "Alhydrea Holmes, née Snyder."

She took note of the look of vague confusion on Sherlock's face, but any pride she might have had at that was snuffed out easily. "Oh my. I'm terribly sorry. I'm afraid I don't remember you." Ally replied, her voice layered heavily with regret. "At which function did we meet?"

Jackie wanted to be insulted by that, but it was hard to do. Leelee had always been flighty, and even putting that aside, Alhydrea still looked like herself, though paler and less colorful. Jackie, though, had change more considerably as she aged. It was no wonder, really.

"Yeah…" John muttered at her side. "I don't remember introducing you…"

Sherlock gave a prim little sniff. "John, they obviously knew each other in their youth. Mrs Watson was clearly deeply in love with my mother."

Displaying a fantastic disregard for their age differences, Jackie and John both choked on the air at that. Their faces were matching shades of red as they exclaimed, "What?"

Ally held back a quiet giggle. "Honey bee, I think I'd remember any young women making moony faces at me." She corrected gently. "Why don't you newlyweds go chat somewhere while I try to resuscitate poor Mrs Watson from your alarming lack of decency?"

Whatever Sherlock had been about to say felt silent under the stern gaze his mother settled on him. The fact that she was a foot shorter and several decades older didn't seem to matter, and Jackie wondered just how Leelee had learned to look quite so immutable. The taller man gave a dramatic huff and spun away, dragging his new husband by the elbow in a way that Jackie suspected was entirely too common. John certainly didn't seem surprised by it.

"That was impressive."

"Oh, you just have to know his secrets and have no qualms about sharing them. You'd be astounded at just how completely ordinary that boy can be when he's faced with the loss of his reputation." The callousness of casual blackmail threats was undercut by Ally's amusement. As if by magic, her face had lost its stony appearance, relaxing into the half-smile that seemed to be her default.

The Holmes matron took up a slow, elegant stroll around the perimeter of the room, and Jackie followed quietly, wondering if it was the fate of any Watson in the presence of a Holmes to become some sort of silent side kick. "But, you must remind me of your identity, Mrs Watson. I'm afraid I don't recall you at all. Probably a sign of my age."

"It was a very long time ago." Jackie answered. "Before I met Cole, my husband. Back then, I was Jaqueline Jones. You used to think it was 'cruelly alliterative and entirely too pretentious.' As if your name left you any room to preach about pretentiousness."

The speed with which Ally spun to stare wide eyed at her old friend was impressive, considering the length of the heels she was wearing. Alhydrea's eyes, much bluer than her son's and less disturbingly piercing, searched Jackie's face rapidly, flickering across the features as though seeing them each a dozen times would jog her memory.

And then she laughed loudly enough to draw a few stares. "Jackie Jones! You mean to tell me, after all the haranguing your brothers gave us, it's our isons/i that got married?"

Jaqueline joined in the laughter merrily, tucking one arm around the petite woman's shoulders the same way they had always done when they were young. "Why yes, Leelee, I do believe that's the case."

* * *

She should have stopped after the toast. Ally knew full and well just how alcohol affected her. She wasn't twelve years old and sneaking her father's whiskey into her bedroom anymore. And champagne was particularly awful: the bubbles seemed to carry a fogginess of mind directly up her nose and into her brain, biology be damned.

But, it was a wedding! A celebration! And besides that, Jackie was back to her old games of pestering here into 'just another sip, you know you want to.' It was about the time that she forgot to correct Jaqueline's wording that she realized she had gone entirely too far. And if she was going to have to stay in a guest room at the reception hotel anyway, then she might as well carry on.

The two old mothers sat holed away in a corner, surrounded by a revealing bulk of empty flutes, as the younger generations carried on with their dancing and revelry long into the night- and long after the star couple had disappeared. Alhydrea had been certain to notify the room of their exit, which had been suspiciously soon after the cake. Most of the guests had been tipsy by then and the cat calls had been fantastic; she was certain that her silly son could hear them from the corridor, and if he wasn't blushing, his groom certainly was.

"What're you thinkin' on, Leelee?" Jackie asked, her voice beginning to succumb to the gluing effects of too much drink.

"You're the only one that ever called me that, y'know. Siger made me into Alhydrea, an' everyone else settled on Ally."

Jackie shrugged. "Never much cared for Siger."

"Yes, I gathered that when you broke his face."

"Oh, it was just his nose. He w's fine after!"

Alhydrea made a soft hum in response, barely a noise at all, and studied her companion's face. Her chin was still strong, almost masculine, but Jackie's previously plump cheeks had begun to droop with the years. Her hair was still stubbornly clinging to the color of old dishwater, though it was strung through with grey. That was enviable. Leelee's own had turned completely silver before she'd left her fourties.

"I take it Johnny's eyes come from his father, then?" Ally asked, not even noticing the abominable grammar anymore. Jackie's were deep, inky brown, by far the darkest thing about her entire visage.

"Aye. Cole had the loveliest eyes. Big blue things with a bit of copper round the edges." They were staring at each other now, in the drowsy, ill conceived way of reminiscent drunks. "Like yours. Too bad your children never got 'em."

"Your son is my son, now, so we can pretend."

"Don't know if I quite like the idea of Sherl'ck bein' my son. He's absolutely awful, that boy. Sees too much, an' can't keep his mouth shut."

Leelee shrugged easily. "If he ever does it again, tell him you know 'bout the thing with the kennel. He'll leave you be for at least a few weeks," Alhydrea gave a miserable failure of a salute with her words. "Promise."

There was comfortable silence for a long while. Long enough that the crowd around them began to thin, and Jackie caught herself yawning and tipping forward awkwardly.

"He's right a lot, though. Sherlock is. About things. 'S like magic, what him an' Mycrof' can do with just looking." Alhydrea said, as she braced her hand tightly against the edge of their table. "You know, I didn't recognize you , Jackie. But I do remember a girl making moony eyes at me during class. Was my boy right about you, too?"

Jackie stared up at her, marveling at the oddness of having such a tiny creature staring down on her. "Can't imagine so." She replied, waving her hand senselessly through the air. "What with Cole, and Johnny and Harry, and all. You know."

Alhydrea made another one of those inconsequential humming sounds, and offered her free hand to Jackie. "We'd best go and find a room, then, before we keel over at this table." She laughed airily, the giggles not thickened like the rest of her voice. "It'll be just like when we were little. Sleeping off too much drink with my oldest friend."

Jackie laughed at that, and they wandered, shoulders knocking against eachother awkwardly up two flights of stairs and into one of the many overly luxurious suites.

* * *

The following morning, they wandered back out, shoulders still knocking, steps still wobbly, but in an entirely different way.

It had been _nothing _like when they were twelve.

They passed the newlyweds in the lounge, dressed in fresh outfits with luggage in hand, about to embark on their honeymoon.

"You see?" Alhydrea's son muttered, eyes pointedly looking anywhere but at the two women. "I told you she was."


End file.
